


An Improper Nights Rest

by Alayne_StoneColdFox



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Literal Sleeping Together, Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Together, That old chestnut, actually kind of fluffy just try and remember that petyr's still a creep, every ship in every fandom, get amongst it, has done this cliche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7099447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alayne_StoneColdFox/pseuds/Alayne_StoneColdFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa had begged for Petyr to allow them to stop at an inn by the side of the road, to find some respite from the wet and cold that had plagued their travels, only to discover there is only one available room and only one available bed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Improper Nights Rest

The weather was wet and miserable. At this hour you couldn’t see the sky for the darkness, nor the moon, for how thick the clouds were. It had rained consistently for the past three days of their journey and even as they stayed cooped up in the shelter of the wheelhouse, Sansa couldn’t help but feel as if the chill and the wet had seeped into her very bones. Combine this with the boring views of endless country side, lack of anything to talk about, and the cramps in her un-stretched limbs, Sansa was just as miserable as the weather.

She glances to her side at Petyr, eyes closed, slumped against the cushions with his arms folded loosely across his chest, head bobbing softly with the bumps in the road. You’d think he was asleep, but Sansa wasn’t convinced. He’d been like this yesterday when she’d taken the opportunity to stretch out her legs by propping them up on the bench in front of them. Some time after doing so, her skirts had ridden up along her legs a little bit, enough for her to come to notice a small hole in her woollen tights. She’d lifted her leg further to inspect it, only to find another just above her knee. Leaning back against the pillows, she all but had her leg in mid air as she fingered the wool, sheer boredom having her pull absentmindedly at the thread, when all of a sudden-

“I suppose you’ll be wanting new ones then?”

Sansa had dropped her legs so fast her feet clattered on the floorboards and she’d turned bright red, absolutely mortified at being caught in such an undignified position. Slumping down in her seat, playing with her clothes like a child. How long had he been awake, or had he even been asleep at all? She didn’t even say anything in reply. She couldn’t. What words could lessen the embarrassment? She knew he hardly cared for an answer back anyway.

She could only bear to look at him when his eyes had closed again, and he still had such a smirk on his lips. 

“Lord Baelish,” Came a tap at the wood from one of guards outside, and in an instant, Petyr was alert, eyes opened as he sat up in his seat. Just as she thought.

“There’s an inn coming up on the road in a mile or so. Will you be wanting to stop for the night?” The guard asked, and Sansa’s heart soared. A warm bed, a fire! Somewhere to dry her clothes. Immediately her hand shot out to Petyr’s arm, pleading. He had to say yes, he had too! He glanced down at her gloved hand that touched his arm before looking up at what she made sure were her most endearing eyes. 

“please,” she said “Please can we stop?”

His smile seemed taut “You know we are trying to be as inconspicuous as we can, Alayne. Is stopping at an inn really wise? We might be seen by all manner of people.”

“But it’s already night time. It wont be busy, and I have my dark hair.” She rattled off quickly “We could use fake names too.”

He was silent for a moment and Sansa was sure he was going to say no, he was going to be so mean and say no, and they’d spend another night sleeping sitting up in this horrid little box for the sake of being inconspicuous and-

“Mm…I suppose one night can’t do us too much harm.” 

Sansa dared let herself smile as he leant out to the guards and told them that, yes, they’d be stopping for the night. When he turned back to her he said “You aren’t the only one missing a proper bed.”

Some time later they arrived. The inn itself was on the small side. Two storeys tall, with a rusted sign creaking loudly from being battered in the wind. Luckily there was light in some of the windows. They left the guards to tend to their horses, and darted quickly through the rain to the entrance.

When they stepped inside they seemed to come upon a late night drinking session, an older lady with thinning grey hair, and two younger, but by no means young, men. They sat around a small fire in the low roofed room, holding tankards, and ceasing their conversation, they turned to look at the dripping wet figures.

Petyr was the first to speak “Sorry for the late intrusion,” he smiled, jovially “Simply two weary travellers, wondering if you had any rooms for the night?”

The woman was the one to stand and look them up and down properly “Might be that I did have one left, but you’d best be willing to pay.”

Petyr reached into his cloak pocket and produced a gold dragon “and this will be enough, I presume?”

That was enough to change her entire tone.

In an instant she was up and quick about sorting them out however best she could, fetching one man to help the guards at the stables, another to help take up their trunk.

“You must be begging me pardon, sir.” She said as she shuffled before them up the old wooden stairs, golden dragon now buried deep down the front of her dress, between her sagging breasts. As safe a place as any for an old womans gold, Sansa thought.

“You don’t know how bad these parts have got thanks to this damned war, can hardly trust your neighbour in times like this. I don’t mean to be rude to proper guests like yer’selves.”

“No offence taken, we understand completely.” Petyr said, as she led them to a door at the end of the upstairs landing.

“Now, we serve breakfast in the morning to guests, just a simple broth, but if you be wanting anything now I can bring up some bread and cheese, just for, say, a bit of silver-“

She opened the door as she spoke, and as they were led inside, Sansa noticed that there was only one bed. She looked to Petyr to say something of it.

“No, I don’t think we’re in need of any food right now, thank you, but I’m sure an early breakfast may do us some good.” 

“Any extra blankets? For a cold night like tonight, you might be needin’ em. For an extra silver I can get you two?” 

An extra bed, Sansa thought to that. We’re in need of an extra bed!

“I’m sure we will be fine, thank you.” 

“Right you are then.” She gave a little nod of her head to them both, and Sansa looked from her, to Petyr, to the bed and back again. He wasn’t going to say anything, she realised.

The old woman made her leave. The door was shut and bolted behind her. And then they were left alone.

Rough white walls and dark wood floors, with a low ceiling. Candles burnt on low tables by the ominous bed side. Besides a worn chair in a corner there was nothing else to the room.

Petyr was quick to wander over and pull back the covers to the bed, turning over pillows to inspect them. 

“Hm. Not bad. Better than the state of their floors at least. I know it’s a time of war, but you’d think they’d at least have time for a quick sweep.” He muttered.

Apparently deeming them clean enough he went to their trunk, unlatching it and reaching in to find his night clothes.

Sansa stood firmly across the room, thumb raking over her the back of her hands, which were clasped tensely in front of her. 

He finally seemed to acknowledge her silent stares as he laid out the robes on the bed, giving her a once over.

“….you did hear her, didn’t you? One available room. This one. There’s no haggling when you only have one option, Sansa.”

“You could have asked to switch with some other guest!” she said, indignantly “I’m sure someone would have been happy to if you offered them more silver.”

“Dragging people out of their beds close to midnight doesn’t align with the wish to be discreet. Besides, I can’t imagine tavern folk are overly fond of rich types flashing their coins about, forcing them to do this and that.”

Sansa’s lips pressed together even tighter to stop herself saying something to that. He was the type who liked flashing his coin about, he liked haggling, and he did like forcing people to do this and that...

He was only doing this to share a bed with her, the thought crept into her mind, but then she felt immediately ashamed of thinking so. No, no, it was only because they had to. There was only one bed and one option. 

“My septa always said a lady should never share a bed with anyone but her husband.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

He regarded her with a small smile, as he sat on the bed to unlace his boots.

“A septa’s propriety. Useful for young maidens running around Winterfell, being pursued by rakish young boys, but not as applicable to bastard girls in current circumstances.”

A boot dropped to the floor with a thunk.

“It’s inappropriate…” her voice trailed off, knowing her arguments were redundant, but she felt as if she needed to voice them anyway. To appease to the morals the septa at least tried to teach her.

“One room. One bed. I’m afraid we’ll have to make do with being inappropriate, sweetling...unless you say we leave, and spend another night in the wheel house, if that’s what you would rather?”

Sansa huffed, lip jutting out in a pout as he knew that’s not what she wanted “No…” 

“Good.” He ignored her sulking look quite happily, the other boot dropping to the floor to lay with the other “Now, enough silliness. I’m sure your septa’s will forgive you for wanting to sleep in a nice warm bed after a week of travelling.”

The bed did look particularly inviting. What would her Septa’s have advised her to do, were they here? Sleep on the floor? Surely that was more foolish than simply sharing the bed, like Petyr said. Besides, it wasn’t as if they were to ever know. 

She sat down on the bed too, perched perhaps a bit stiffly, and slipped off her own shoes.

Still, to share a bed with a man. The reality of it made her blush. She knew It would be different to the times she’d shared a bed with Jeyne pool or Arya, or Sweetrobin.

It wasn’t inherently inappropriate, not unless he were to try and touch her. Press himself against her in the night. Run his hands over her.

God, what was she like, even thinking of such things? Her blush turned fierce and she wondered what kind of girl she was to even imagine. Glancing over at Petyr she wondered if he had thoughts of touching her too. Could his mind not help it, as hers couldn’t?

Looking down at her discarded shoes, she suddenly worried about what she was to do about changing.

Petyr seemed to have no such worries, as he began unfastening his heavy cloak, slipping it off his shoulders. Sansa watched him hang it carefully on a given hook across the room. Watched him slip his golden brocade robes off, until he stood in the think dark blue under robes. She really ought to look a way, her senses told her, as even with his back turned she could see him busy himself with the laces to his breeches….but it wasn’t truly as if she saw anything. No flashes of skin, just him simply pulling down the breeches from his hips, discarding them on the floor…then he turned more toward her and she quickly busied herself with looking down at the most interesting bed sheets. He ended up leaving on the dark blue under robes, only slipping his night one over the top. 

Eyes still cast downward, Sansa cursed herself for not quickly changing while his back was turned. Though she was sure she probably would not have managed such a quick a change as him, not with the laces to her dress. She was gracious for the relief of not having to wear a corset while travelling. To think she would have had to ask Petyr to help her unlace herself.

Again, she chastised herself for her thoughts. 

There was no such privacy screen given in a room as sparse as this. She sat there, hesitantly, waiting to see if perhaps Petyr would offer to stand in the hall, or turn his back again. That was an empty hope though, as he smiled, as though he sensed her discomfort and yet found it somewhat endearing. Or at least amusing

“Surely you’re not going to sleep in your travelling cloak?” he said, slipping into the bed.

For a brief moment she contemplated changing in the hall herself, but that was just silliness. He had changed without a fuss and so could she. 

“Of course not.” She stood and slipped off her cloak, as he had, and hung it up besides his. She tried to move as naturally as possibly, as if completely un-phased. In reality she over thought every movement of her hand, from the way she faced her body, to the expression on her face, to where she looked. 

He may be watching, but she mustn’t look at him.

Her dress had its laces at the back, and usually it was no trouble to undo them herself, but it was safe to say she was slightly on edge. Her fingers stiff, she tugged harder at her laces until they came loose enough. She shook the dress down to her ankles and shivered in her thin shift.

Her nightgown was in the trunk, but she decided to abandon it. There was no way she would be removing her shift to replace it, then Petyr would certainly see something indecent. As soon as her dress hit the floor she moved quick to jump into bed, under the covers where she scooted down and pulled them all the way up past her chin, so only her nose and eyes could be seen.

He looked like he was going to laugh, but she ignored him.

Curling into a tight little ball under the covers, Sansa barely moved as Petyr made himself comfortable. Fluffing his pillow and re-arranging himself under the covers.

“It’s hardly luxury, but given what we’ve suffered the past few days, even these scratchy sheets and saggy pillows feel a treat, don’t they?” Petyr said, as he settled besides her.

“Mm, much better.”

The sheets were a little scratchy, now that he mentioned it. They were no doubt thinner than the lavish kind she was used to, and she was realising they were a deal less warm. She pulled her legs up and held her arms close to her chest. 

As they lay there, candlelight still flickering on the bedside tables to illuminate them, a thought came to her.

“Do you think they thought we were married? The inn-keeper and those men?” she asked.

“I should certainly hope that’s what they think. There’s no better story to explain our sharing of a bed.”

“Yes…even telling them I was your daughter, that may shock them. Only little children ever sleep in their parents bed.”

“Precisely why we wont tell them anything. Let them come to natural assumption that I’m your husband and you’re my sweet young bride. Perhaps travelling to some new keep from our wedding.”

“and if anyone should come asking if a lord and his daughter had stayed here a night or two, they would only say ‘no, just a wealthy man and his wife’.”

“Exactly.” He smiled, and his hand reached out to smooth her hair away from what showed of her face “Now, you look in need of sleep. Perhaps you could spare your father a good night kiss? Or am I your husband for tonight?”

Sansa blushed, feeling his hand rest against her cheek, the word husband ringing in her mind.It is only a jest, she told herself, as she leant across the pillow, tongue darting out to wet her lips a tad, before she gave him his kiss. It was no different to the usual kisses she gave him, the kind he asked for. Even so, it felt entirely more intimate as they lay close like this.

For a minute she made believed in her head that perhaps they were married, that this is what it would feel like, to be someone’s wife. She had daydreamed of what it would be like before, only now she could smell the scent of a man, and feel the heat of another body besides her. 

Tentatively she pulled back, hoping her kiss had been to his liking. Sometimes he decided her kisses were lack lustre, and that she ought to give him another one to make up for it, but he seemed content with the one she’d given him. 

“Good night, sweetling.” He said softly, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

Then he leant up to blow out the candles by the bedside, and it was all of a sudden dark and silent and time to sleep. Sansa rolled over, turned away from Petyr, to try and settle herself. The rain beating against the window was so much louder in the quiet, along with the howling of the wind, and even the continued laughter and voices echoing up from downstairs.

Besides that, she was cold. She rubbed her feet together and tucked up as tight as she could but warmth couldn’t come quick enough. There weren’t any curtains on the window to block out the wind and the chill, she thought. That’s why it was so cold.

Or you were a silly girl just to wear your shift to bed instead of your thicker night gown.

She wished she could get up and slip it on now. She thought on how hard it would be to get up and find the trunk in the dark, try and find her night gown in the pile of clothes. Oh, but she didn’t want to be a bother. It would most likely annoy Petyr, her fumbling around because of her own foolishness. He would think her silly for not putting it on in the first place. She lay there still and silent and over thinking and cold, and it wasn’t soon after that she felt a hand touch at her waist.

“You’re cold.” He murmured, and she felt him shift slightly closer to her.

“Aren’t you?” she managed to say. Whisper. His hand occupying every one of her thoughts, warm on her body.

“A tad, but I’m not shivering.”

“I’m not shivering.” She denied.

“I can feel your legs shaking under the covers.” And then the hand moved down over her shift to run along to rest on her stockinged legs “How am I meant to sleep with a shaking girl besides me?”

She stilled herself as best she could, though her heart beat quite a bit faster “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mean for you to apologise. Here, we’ll be warmer if we’re closer.”

Unsure of what to do, what to say, Sansa let him guide her body back against his. Her back pressed against his chest, his hand still settled on her leg. She shifted slightly, to get comfortable. Maybe a wise girl would pull away, but she wasn’t a wise girl, she was a cold one. She certainly felt much warmer like this, though perhaps that was from the red of her cheeks, spreading into a whole blush of her body. That’s certainly what it felt like.

“There,” his breath could be felt close to her ear, warm as well “Is that better?”

“Mmm.” Was all she managed to get out, pressing her cheek into the pillows, embarrassed to be able to feel his body along hers. Embarrassed and something else. Something that stopped her from pulling away. 

“You mustn’t be shy with me Sansa. I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill in a drafty room like this, would you? Not when we must be back on the road again tomorrow.”

“No, of course not.” She saw the sense in that, and her body relaxed a little to his touch.

Sometimes she often felt like Petyr could read her mind, even though she knew that was silliness. Even so, he was still entirely good at guessing at what went on in her thoughts, so she prayed that since it was dark and he could not see her face, he wouldn’t know where he mind was now. Thinking of their brief time on the fingers, Petyr and Lysa’s wedding night. Hearing Lysa’s noises from downstairs as she shared her bed with Petyr for the first time. She wondered what he had done to make her moan so, and wondered if the inn keeper and those men downstairs expected to hear similar noises from them tonight, if they really did think she was his wife…

The hand that rested on her leg suddenly began to roam, as he stroked down towards her knee.

“Ah, there’s one of those holes.” He said, his finger having caught on the rip in her stockings. Pausing to rub tentative little circles over the bare patch of skin “And were was the other one again? A bit further up wasn’t it?”

His hand moved to her inner thigh, stroking blindly till he found another of the holes, his finger playing with the frayed edges of material.

“You’ll make them bigger if you do that...” she said, squirming a little at the touch. In her movements she inadvertently pressed her behind back onto his hips.

Where his cock would be, an awful little voice teased her in the back of her mind. Sansa stayed still against him and to her shame, she waited to see if she could feel it through all the layers of their clothes, wondered if she shifted just a bit more she’d feel it press into her-

“I thought I told you I’d be buying you new ones. Perhaps silk or lace…how does that sound?”

“Nice…” she answered, the word an effort to speak aloud, pretending to be composed as she thought all kinds of thoughts she knew she shouldn’t have, their bodies still pressed together.

That was the last word spoken between them as his hand gently began to idle up and down her leg. A gentle and tentative stroke, barely just his finger tips. It was pleasant enough, though she was still tense for some time. 

But Sansa was no match for the warmed bed, with the sound of the beating rain and his rhythmic touch, where his stroking became bolder. His palm now running all the way up to the top of her stockings and down again. Time passed like this and she felt herself finally settle into the comfort another body can provide, as she felt the rise and fall of Petyr’s chest, hearing his soft inhales and exhales.

She waited for his hand to reach down between her legs but it never came. The last thought Sansa has before sleep took her was to wether she simply expected it, or the more unnerving notion that she perhaps wanted it.

**Author's Note:**

> Actually not smut, surprise!
> 
> But isn't it nice to see Sansa herself wishing it had been?


End file.
